Angel
by acalanto
Summary: In an unlikely location, a man tormented by guilt and consumed by pain, seeking redemption. What he finds is not what he expects…


**A/N Thousands of thanks to the beta reader JOYS of October for her invaluable help. Without her patience and support, this story would have remained only in my imagination.**

* * *

Although they were in the place once, his feet seems to know the way and lead him through the trees. The last time he had been in place, it was summer. Now the trees are leafless and look like ghostly figures in contrast to the white snow covering the ground.

When he arrived at his destination, he was surprised to realize that something had changed.

A statue of a woman, with no pedestal, at ground level. Instead of a flowing dress, the woman wore casual clothes, her long hair hung loose, falling well past her shoulders, her arms crossed. The sculptor has done an incredible job capturing her defiant posture, making it look as if it were alive and breathing.

He knows it's just an illusion, because those days are gone. They're just memories. She is dead...It is just a statue, he reminds himself. A statue of Rachel, frozen in time, eternal and immobile. A cold marble statue.

He crouched down and cleaned with gloved hands on the snow covering the headstone. Then, he traced his fingers on the etched name with reverence. On the tombstone are written the name Rachel Scott and a sentence 'The woman who gave us back hope'.

"Rachel, I feel lost...I'm not the man I used to be. I can barely see the way ahead…Sometimes I wish you can hear me…"

"Tom…" he heard his name being called, looked up and saw Rachel, as he remembered her, dressed in boots, blue jeans, black blouse, and in the yellow coat she used to wear on the ship. Her hair in a thick braid by the side of her face.

"Rachel…" he says surprised.

He got up from the ground and approached her carefully as if he feared she would disappear. He reached out to touch her, but though she looked as real as he did, his hand moved right through her.

Rachel's lips curled into a tenuous smile. "I'm dead, remember? "she reminded him.

How could I forget? He thinks. What's happening to me? Maybe I'm going crazy since I'm talking to a ghost. Or maybe I'm dreaming. It's the only explanation that makes sense.

"I'm dreaming because you can't be real." He murmurs.

There were so many things he _needed_ to tell her, but he just couldn't seem to put the words into coherent sentences. He still couldn't believe she was here.

"Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth," she said.

"Sherlock Holmes?" he asked.

"There are thousands of books and stories, but most of these stories are about the struggle between good and evil, tormented heroes looking for revenge. This type seems to be the favorite of readers, audacious, who lives great adventures and in the end saves the world. Who wants to live a normal life anyway?"

He had the feeling she was not just talking about literature, her words were loaded with subtle irony. "Okay, you're here. But why are you here, Rachel?"

"I'm where you need me to be. You have to say goodbye to all your ghosts, Tom."

He did not want to talk about the ghosts that haunted him, especially with one of them. So he made a comment that he considered safe. "The sculptor who made the statue is very talented…" he started.

She paused as though considering his comment. "It was a gift from Tex, he found a sculptor in a nearby town." She saw a flash of pain in his eyes when she mentioned the name of Tex. "He thought that an angel with open wings and solemn face would not combine well with me. But you didn't come here to talk about the skills of a sculptor. Why did you come here, Tom?"

"I do not know, maybe because I need to be reminded of who I was... by... a friend…"

Rachel looked around at the headstones and then looked back at him. "Friends? You will not find a friend here. This place only has pain and the people you want to forget," she said.

"I didn't forget the people that I lost on this mission, Rachel. I remember your faces so clearly, but sometimes I wish I could forget. Because sometimes it's too painful to remember."

"You feel guilty, Captain Chandler. Survivor's guilt…"

"Don't call me that, I'm not a Captain anymore."

"I had forgotten, you were promoted to Admiral. It is weird to see you without your uniform. It has always seemed like a second skin on you. "

"I'm not in the Navy anymore, Rachel."

"The absence of uniform does not mean that you are no longer an _honorable_ Navy Officer," she replied.

"This Thomas Chandler disappeared when I pulled the trigger while ignoring my conscience that screamed for me not to do it. All that remains now is a shadow of the man that I was once."

"You feel bad because you killed an innocent woman." Rachel emphasized the word innocent. "A person accused of a crime is considered innocent until proven guilty. But…think of her as a civilian casualty in a military operation."

The memory of his dead father, Tex in a pool of blood, terror in the eyes of his kids, made his blood boil again. He said in a voice strangled with rage. "She was not innocent. She was a cold, brutal and manipulative bitch…."

"So, what's the problem? She deserved to die. You should be proud of what you did, rid the world of one more viper, one less enemy to worry about. You're overdramatizing things for nothing, Tom," Rachel said.

The words were spoken with a disdainful and condescending tone and irritated Tom, making him lose control of his temper.

"Nothing? I'm not you. I'm not in the habit of killing people in cold blood…I…" Damn you! Damn you, Rachel Scott! For making me lose control, for making me say things…He thought angrily. He took a deep breath to get himself under control.

In a contrite voice he said, "Rachel, I really am sorry. I should never have said …Forgive me, you didn't need to hear me be an asshole, you didn't deserve to hear from me…a hypocrite."

"You're not telling a lie. You do not need to apologize," she says, "not to me. You're a soldier; you've killed many times before. What is different this time?"

"Part of my assignment as a soldier is to kill, I know...but only to protect myself, to protect my companions, to protect my country ... but killing in cold blood is not part of these assignments. She deserved to be punished, but it wasn't for me to decide. For this, we have rules, courts..." he explained.

" _Every task we perform every ritual we adhere to reminds us that we haven't lost who we are. It reminds us that everything we do matter, every decision_ ...I remember, Captain. It seems that those rules are only good for others."

He shuddered as if her words had caused him physical pain. When he'd come to this place, fighting with a ghost had not been his goal.

"I don't know what I expected _._ I made a mistake coming here." He said and turned his back on her.

"Go ahead – run away. Thomas Chandler, a coward. Who would have thought?" Her words dripped with sarcasm.

He clenched and unclenched his fists, took a deep breath and turned to face her. "What do you want from me _?_ " He asked, anger permeating his words.

"Me? Nothing. You came to me. If you wanted to hear sweet words, you should have stayed at home. What did you expect to hear from me? You'll get over it. In real life things don't work that way."

He whispered. "I'm trying." Then he continued to speak out loud. "I'm trying, but sometimes things get hard... I can't stop thinking I've failed them. You trusted me, and I failed you, too."

"You are afraid that people will see you as you really are, fragile, broken, a hero with feet of clay... You're too damn arrogant, Captain."

"I'm not THAT arrogant, " he vehemently denied.

"Yes, you are. You act as if all the lives lost were your fault. As if, you were to be omnipresent, and omnipotent. Guess what? You are not God! And the world is not divided between black and white, there are nuances of gray also."

"Principles and rules exist to be used primarily in times of crisis, when everything in us rebels against these rules. I've never put myself on a pedestal above the others as you say; I've always assumed my mistakes and my… feelings," he said,

"You really don't see it, do you?"

"See what?" he asks _,_ completely confused.

"You do not deal with feelings as well as you think. War kills, mutilates, injures and destroys mainly those who remain... You lost your brothers, your wife, men and women under your command and you never allowed yourself to grieve properly for any of them. You moved on or pretended to follow. You are still in the denial stage for all the losses. Not feeling is safer, it allows you to continue your work...There was a world to save, orders to give, a new battle to win."

"The desire for revenge remained below the surface, just waiting for the moment to explode. Your father's death and the kidnapping of your kids sent you over the edge. Now that you have quenched your thirst for revenge, _revenge that you've been feeding for months_ , you're feeling lost. So empty, numb and cold inside. " She said.

It was scary how she described his feelings so accurately. Feelings that he hides so well from himself and others. _She is dead, his inner voice recalls. How would she know?_

But that does not change the fact that she's right. When he hunted Ramsey, he wanted to kill him not just because he was the enemy but because the bastard had taken innocent lives, just to blame him. Master Chief had seen his desire for revenge and tried to warn him about it. He felt powerless for not being able to figure out who was responsible for taking her life. An image does not leave his head, her big brown eyes, pleading, pursued him even in his waking hours.

She protests indignantly. "I thought you knew me better _,_ Tom. I've never begged for anything in my life."

The stance and the response is so Rachel that it is almost painful to see, knowing that this sweet illusion will end soon. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying not to laugh or sob or both, and said , "I know."

When he spoke again, his voice was full of pain and self-loathing. "This war took everything from me, my wife, my brothers, friends, soldiers, some too young to die, you, my father and my sanity. For a moment, I thought killing that woman would give me relief. I have conscience of what I did was not justice; it was revenge pure and simple. Did I feel good? Honestly, yes. Do I still feel the same way now ? No, I feel empty, lost, broken…emotionally I am a mess."

Her voice softened because this was the chink she'd wanted to see in his armor "Did you forgive me for what I did?" she asked.

He was taken aback by her abrupt change of subject, but responds without hesitation, "Yes."

"Why?"

"When you killed Niels, I was angry, disappointed, sad, but realized that I could not give up one friend. Because I had already lost so much, I did not want to lose anyone anymore. I didn't want to lose _you_. I wish I was there for you when you..." His voice caught in his throat and could not utter that word.

"You were. The memory of your smile in the park was the image that was on my mind before my death. The memory of a _friend_. My death is not your fault. If you had accepted my _invitation_ , you would be dead now."

"If I were there you would have stood a chance."

"You may have many skills, but stopping a bullet is not one of them. I don't think red would look good on you."

He did raise an eyebrow at the last sentence and opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by her.

"Do you remember our last conversation?" she asked.

He remembers, every word, her smile, her saying that she wanted to see him squirm in court. It had been difficult for him to resist the temptation of a woman so sure of her charms. Every time he thought about that night, he regretted resisting her. "Yes, I remember."

"I said I was anxious to see you squirm in court. What did you answer?" she asked.

"That I would not change my mind."

"If I were alive, would you have changed your mind?" she queried him.

"I'm not in a position to judge your actions now, Rachel…"

"That's not what I asked you," she insisted.

"No, I wouldn't have changed my mind," he replied reluctantly.

"You had forgiven me, but you wanted to do things the right way. The guilt you feel for killing that woman indicates that your moral compass is not broken beyond repair. Like a ship off course, you just need to calibrate it to navigate properly again, Captain. Give yourself a second chance," she encouraged.

"Life is not so simple, Rachel. I'll never anymore be the man I was before that happened. How can I demand the trust of others?"

"I didn't say it would be easy. Part of the problem is that in addition to having lost confidence in yourself, you fear that you have lost the trust of others. You did not lose the respect of your soldiers; they would follow you to hell if you want to."

"Tex followed me up to hell and the result was… painful," he said sadly.

"Many have not come back, but you owe it to them, to live and not just survive. Tex knew the risk he was running into and accepted it voluntarily. The role of tortured hero may be beautiful in novels, but it is tiring in real life. Stop wallowing in self-pity, Thomas Chandler."

"I'm not acting," he started to say riled up and then he started to laugh as he finally realized what she was doing. She has always been able to get him out of his comfort zone.

"You provoked me on purpose," he accused.

"Of course I did. The ancient Romans did not use sweet words to enter the citadels. They used battering rams. You keep your emotions under tight control. I needed…"

He laughed again and glanced at Rachel, whose face glowed with a proud smile.

"Piss me off?" he continued.

"It's good to see you smile again, Tom," she said.

"It's good to be able to laugh again. Thank you, Rachel," he said sincerely.

She walked over and hugged him. He hesitated just a second, and then slipped his arms around Rachel,marveling at the fact that he could touch her, really touch her. In that brief instant that he had her in his arms, she was not a ghost conjured up by his pain, but a woman, alive, her heart beating in the same rhythm as his own. As he rested his jaw against her hair, one lonely single tear rolled down his cheek and disappeared into her hair. He held her tightly, not wanting to let go her, but knowing that he has to.

"I have to go, Tom," she said. She had turned away from him but remained in his arms.

"Wait, that's it?" he asked.

"I did not come to solve your problems, it's up to you. Good people do make mistakes, Tom. I am here to remind you of who you really are. You're still a great man, a good friend and a wonderful father. Accept the fact that you are not perfect. That you made bad choices and move on. And remember, just because I'm protecting you doesn't mean I won't kick your ass."

"Diplomacy's not necessarily your strong suit. Rachel, you are the strangest looking angel I've ever seen!"

"Wrong! I'm not an angel. With you, soft diplomacy doesn't work. I really have to go. Besides, your traveling companion is impatient and worried. He is coming to pick you up."

Obeying a sudden impulse, he leaned down and kissed her, tenderly at first but then more passionately as he felt her response. So alive. So in love. So real. The voice of his heart crooned in his ear. Then his chest tighten when he remembered he'd have to say goodbye. He felt tears welling up in his eyes and running down his cheek, and he could taste the salt of his own tears upon her lips.

When he breaks the kiss, he begs. "Stay!"

Rachel says, a mixture of sadness and longing in her voice. "Tom, I can't. I've stayed longer than I should have, our time together is over. Please let _me go_."

He released her, reluctance in every movement. She stepped away from him a few steps and he watched her body become transparent, almost ethereal.

"Goodbye Rachel, I'll miss you… _I loved you_ _._ " Tom says, masking his pain behind a smile.

She had a sweet smile on her face and simply said. "I know. Go on home now. It's Christmas Eve _,_ time to celebrate with friends and family, at home near a fireplace, Christmas tree, hot chocolate, cookies, gifts… "

"Will I see you again?"

 _"_ _Yes"_ she says and for a second he can swear that he feels her hands on his face _._ "You will see me in your dreams. _See you when I see you, Captain_ ". Then she disappeared before his eyes.

"Commodore. It's getting really cold in here. It's so cold my butt cheeks have frozen together," a male voice said.

Tom turned and observed his friend who was walking towards him.

He waited for him to approach, watching the scar above his left temple, the pallor and weariness that the jokes could not hide. He felt a flash of guilt over dragging his friend who was recovering from a serious injury to…

"I insisted on coming here, as a friend. Don't worry, I'm fine, Commodore. Nothing that a drink will not solve," Tex says, correctly interpreting the concern in the blue eyes.

"Tex, I doubt that doctors will authorize alcohol with your condition."

They stood side by side, facing the tomb.

"I was thinking of a hot chocolate...with a little brandy." Tex said, playfully, and then got suddenly serious. He watched his friend look at the statue with a certain melancholy. He pretends not to notice the signs of tears on Tom's face. "I'm sorry, I should have warned you. Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"Yes." Tom responded and was surprised to feel that he was telling the truth.

Tex observed the pain still raw in his friend's eyes, the memory of her was still very much alive in his memory. He was sure of that because he felt the same way. The two had loved Rachel Scott. Tex flirted shamelessly with her at times, but he knew he didn't have a chance. Not with Thomas Chandler in the picture.

"I thought of making an angel, but…"

"You did think that an angel with open wings and solemn face would not be a good combination with her," Tom said. Then he said in a low voice, "I disagree, she would be a beautiful angel."

"Did you say you loved her?" Tex asked.

Tom remember that sad night she died. Along with the doctors, he and Tex struggled to save her life. For a few hours, their lives intertwined in a way he could never have imagined. In the end, the three were united through blood, which the two had donated to replace what she had lost. Their efforts were useless. She died the same night, without regaining consciousness.

Seconds later, Tex said. "I'm sorry, man. I shouldn't have asked."

The question was fair, so he answered as honestly as possible. "No, it's okay. As you know, she was a hard-to-ignore woman…."

Shaking his head in agreement, Tex say with good humor, "Don't you mean 'stubborn'? Unpredictable, that made you want to hit your head against the wall in frustration."

"Yes, she was unpredictable… Even now, she's still able to surprise me. Our relationship could have turned into something romantic, if she had survived. We talked before her… "He cleared his throat before continuing. "…before death her... That night when she said she was leaving, I felt I had to let her know that we had a chance. Find me, was the only thing I says. My heart was ready for her, I just was not aware of it. " Tom replied. "You?"

"I said she made me want to love again. She said she cared about me, and loved me, but not in a romantic way. She didn't want to hurt my feelings. Beneath her steel exterior resided a soft heart. She loved you, you know…."

"Sometimes I saw in her eyes that she didn't want me just only like the friend. I wish I had been able to correspond to that love, but…"

"But you were not ready yet, because you were still in mourning for your wife…"

"I wanted to—to give Darien decent burial. For me, her death was so sudden and I did not have a chance to say goodbye…I needed time to grieve, to deal with all the changes in my life…"

"…war means sacrifice, as a soldier I was prepared for the fact that I could find death. I could never imagine that while I was relatively safe on the ship, my wife was fighting a war with no chance of winning. As a father and husband, I was far away, being the soldier, protecting the woman who could save us all. I became her protector, her ally and her friend. Rachel became the mission, but at some point she became more than that."

"Have you been physically attracted to Rachel?"

"Not only physically attracted, I saw Rachel as an equal. Determined. Courageous. Strong. Capable. Confident. She shared with me the same goals, the same burden and the same… principles… I had faith in her, as she had in me, I trusted her. But everything has changed…"

"When she killed Niels…"Tex remembers the pain in her eyes because of the Captain's contempt. He did his best to ease her suffering, being the friend she needed. But her beautiful brown eyes only smiled again after Tom has forgiven her. How he knew it? Because there was only 'one' man capable of returning that sparkle to her eyes.

"I felt betrayed… At some point I realized that I was not upset because of what she did, I was upset because she did not correspond my expectations. Ironic...don't you think?"

Tex reasoned out to him passionately. "We are alive because she was brutal, had no problem getting into a gray area to achieve her goals. She lied for months, to have a chance to find the cure in the Arctic. She kissed you, a married man, to give you a weapon. She gave a placebo to that Russian officer, knowing he was going to die. To give us a chance to fight. She killed Niels to create a vaccine more efficient. Rachel was ruthless when she needed to be, but she was perfect in her own way."

Tom thinks that Tex deserved Rachel's love more than he did, because Tex loved her despite her faults, or maybe because of that.

"What you're saying is that even after everything she did, she was still Rachel. The brilliant woman that we learn to admire and love."

"Just like you. The difference is that she would not be tormenting herself for killing a snake. Guilt my friend can be a terrible emotion to carry around. I hope that coming here has helped…."

"I'll be fine. I... I regret that I never told her just how much she meant to me. Part of me will always love her, but it is time to let her go."

"She knew that when it was important, one of us was always there for her .You may not have said everything you wanted, but for her the most important was your forgiveness, in the end she was happy."

Tom remembers her smile as she flirted with him. She held out the envelope and treading closer, displaying a confident smile as if she were in control of the situation. He had felt his pulse speed up at her close proximity... But the moment passed and she said goodbye...forever. She seemed happy, relaxed, making plans for the trip.

"Yes, she was happy. I…I will never be the same man I was before this war began. I carry scars not only on my body, but also on my soul. I need to win this battle inside of me to be able to move on, it will not be easy. But giving up is not an option. My kids deserve a father whole and not a broken man. "

"Yes!" Tex says with a big smile as he pumped the air with one fist. "It's good to have you back, Commodore."

"I'm not saying that I'll be a soldier again. My days as a Naval Officer are over."

"It's okay, man. What matters is that you are starting to heal."

"I have some regrets, but as someone very intelligent told me, I have to learn to live with my choices."

"If this angel made you put things into perspective, I could only thank him or… her." Tex said looking at the statue of Rachel. _Thank you baby, I knew I could count on you._

Tom put a hand on Tex's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Let's go home, Tex, you're right, it's cold here. And you, my friend, also need to recover from your injuries."

"Do I look that bad?" Tex asked

"Yeah…Let's go home," Tom repeated.

They took one last look at the woman's grave that had meant so much to them, and said good-bye in silence.

" _I loved you, Rachel. I'll do my best to keep your Captain out of trouble._ _But baby if you can help me, I thank you, because_ _ **he**_ _will not make my job easy."_

 _I broke my promise, failed to protect you, but I will do my best to be the man you believe that I am._ _This is a promise that I intend to keep._

While they were walking towards the exit. Tom looked over his shoulder, and saw Rachel, shrouded in a bright light smiling at him before disappearing.

 _Who said that angels need wings? Tom thinks_. Can come in the form of the woman who would always occupy a place in his heart _._ Or in the form of a friend with a peculiar sense of humor.

The rays of the sun began to disappear on the horizon, but for the first time in weeks, he could see the way ahead.

THE END.


End file.
